Tag: #Flash fiction

Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

Stretched…Friday Fiction in Five Sentences.

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Church, Prayer, Story, Fiction

 

Tara hated herself for what she was doing, but her clogged mind just couldn’t think of any other way out of her problems.

Her meagre earnings were stretched beyond its capacity that to eat one meal a day was now a hurdle.

Sending money back home to the Philippines to assist her folks with the younger siblings and her dad’s medication took virtually everything.

With a pounding heart, she prayed for forgiveness in the silence of her heart, cast furtive looks around and quickly dipped her hands into the offering bag; the small clutch of cash felt like burning coals in her palm.

John Paul saw her through the CCTV and smiled to himself; what a golden opportunity, he had her where he wanted her.

© Jacqueline

 

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Short Stories

Adrenaline Rush…

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As an adrenaline junkie, Ash was always in search of the next rush. He lived for daring feats and had literally done all sorts of daring stuff to the constant chagrin of his mother.

Diving off building tops was tame considering other adventures he had embarked on, but today was different. In response to the challenge of his long-standing competition Todd Kemp, it was a record-setting moment for his fastest free fall so far.

With safety harness all set up and onlookers gathered to cheer, he was about to step off the ledge, when the flash of his mothers repeated pleas echoed in his head.

She had warned him over the past several days not to engage in any dangerous attempts based on a recurring nightmare that she had, but he waved it off as one of her usual entreaties.

Shaking off the fleeting cold feet from hearing his mother’s voice in his head, he stepped off and tumbled down into a blackout. The last thing Ash remembered was the cacophony of voices and an insistent voice urgently cajoling him not to let go.

© Jacqueline

Thank you, Grant – Sud for the photo prompt and PJ for hosting.

Short Stories

Walk on the wild side…Flash Fiction

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‘Don’t move!’ Ted ordered in a low tone, but Rita couldn’t help the terrified squeak that escaped her mouth when she followed his pointed gaze and saw the mean looking snake flicking its forked tongue repeatedly, poised to attack at the slightest provocation.

Rita despised creepy crawlies with a passion and snakes topped her chart.

Kaboom! Ted’s aim blew the snakes head off and as its writhing body fell to the ground Rita threw up violently.

She knew that not only would she have creepy nightmares for weeks to come, but she will not be going on a hike in the wild anytime soon.

Thank you, Kecia for the photo prompt and PJ for hosting.

Short Stories

Love Fraud – Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

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She was excited to see dawn break.

Sweet anticipation at finally getting to meet him in person had kept her sleepless for several nights.

They had skyped often over the months but nothing beats real face time.

In no time she was at the airport to pick him up but several hours later, he was a no-show.

Sandra dreaded the thought, but somehow, she knew that she’s just become a victim of online love fraud.

© Jacqueline

Fiction · Short Stories

Hurting – Fiction in Five Sentences

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Image result for images of a sad child and a dog

Tears ran down the bridge of Jane’s little nose and fell on Captain.

Huddled near her best friend she tried to drown out their screaming voices.

She never liked it when they fought and they seemed to do it more and more.

Dad would storm out and disappear for days and mum would go round the bend all teary and mad.

She wished she was back at her gran’s house.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Short Stories

Unpredictable

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She hissed in annoyance and sighed in resignation. Not knowing if her irritation was due to her changed plans, the unpredictable weather, the weather channel or the summation of all three.

They just never seemed to get it right these days. Especially the new weather girl with the dry sense of humour, pout and too much makeup. She had said they would have a fair Spring day, yet here came sleet with ice nestling on the leaves.

With another sigh at her changed plans, Geeta put the kettle on for a spot of tea. She should have listened to her bones. Her tired bones could tell the neurotic weather better than all those fancy TV personalities, except maybe Harrison’s creaky bones.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you loniangraphics for our photo prompt and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform.

Short Stories

A Stolen Kiss…

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Watching the parade of bikers from the window, the vibrating, heavy drone of the machines gave Maggie a thrill.

Though her dad warned her severally to keep away from the loud bunch, there was something about them that excited her and she simply couldn’t resist wanting to be around them, especially that handsome rascal Rafael.

His rich laugh, long locks, and twinkling eyes warmed her insides every time he came to their pub and spared her a glance with that steady look in his eyes’.

Tonight was special, she just knew it. She had sprayed her vanilla mist perfume liberally, let her lustrous hair down and wore her pretty dress that gave her cleavage some boost.

The city’s festival lights have been lit, the mistletoes’ hung, soon the boy’s will troop into the pub for their round of drinks. Rafael is in for a surprise.

© Jacqueline

Thank you, Sunayana for this week’s photo and my lady P.J. for hosting us.

InLinkz

Short Stories

Old Habits – Friday Fiction in Five Sentences.

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Image result for bouquets of carnations

Passing the flower shop, he bought the usual – a beautiful bouquet of red carnations, she loves carnations on Saturdays.

Whistling, he walked slowly to the boulangerie and ordered his basket of the usual, grabbed a free newspaper and waited – he is a man of habits, formed over three scores of existence.

The tram pulled up, boarding along with other passengers, the next thirty-five minutes trundling ride was spent in a light conversation with the gentleman who sat beside him; they talked of little things and their rheumatism – he made a mental note to tell her about the interesting fellow who still wore his old tweed jacket and a dated fedora cap.

‘How is she today?’ He perfunctorily asked the stoic-faced nursing assistant and walked down the familiar corridor, passing room numbers 28, 29, 30 and then opened the door to her room, number 31; everything was as it should be.

Bert took off his coat, planted a cool kiss on Ida’s pale shrunken cheeks, patted her hand in a familiar dismissive mode and sat down to eat whilst he regaled her with little anecdotes of the past week; she stared at him with vacuous eyes, lost in a caged world of her own which he preferred, the staged accident was quite effective, he had grown tired of her nagging.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

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out-of-the-silent-breath 2

 

Creative Writing · Fiction · Weave that Dream · Writing

Nana’s Essence…

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This post is for the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) Challenge, run by Priceless Joy. This week’s photo prompt was provided by her. Thank you ma’am!  The challenge is that you write a story of 75-175 words inspired by the photo prompt below. I hope you like it

Rainy image

Tommy sprawls on his stomach on the thick paisley rug by the fireplace. His crooked elbows supporting his head, as he gazes at Nana with rapt attention.

In her favorite rocking chair, her shawl around her shoulders and Jack-sparrow at her feet, her little round glasses keeps sliding down her nose, when she chuckles.

He loves Nana dearly and her tales are full of magic. Time spent with her are precious.

He enjoys such special nights; the room is warm and toasty, despite the downpour. Cups of warm cocoa with marshmallows and buttery toast are just the thing. Nana’s pecan pie; the best in the entire county. The scents of spices all form a sense of coziness in their hearth.

Stretching his limber frame, his dreamy senses are roused by whispering voices and the waft of vanilla essence. Thomas pads over to his kitchen, brews a cup of coffee and sits by the misty window watching the rain drops.

He startles as a shadow of an orange floral shawl and a limping dog float by. Rushing to open the window, scents of nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla and other spices float in.

Time to finish writing Nana’s tales, he tells himself.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Creative Writing

Escaped..

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In response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers run by Priceless Joy with the photo prompt from afairymind

The locomotice

Annalise stands shivering in the early mornings chill as her cotton shift can barely keep her warm. She impatiently watches the noisy steam locomotive as it pulls up to the station, willing it to stop quickly so that she can hop on.

She casts furtive glances over her shoulders, every step of a passer-by stops her heartbeat in its tracks.

It was still incredulous to her simple mind on how easy it had been to sneak off and she knows that the luxury of time is not at her disposal.

They will soon discover that the lump under the scratchy blanket is a plumped dud. All hell will be let loose.

A fresh start is inevitable, away from it all, but all that she has pinched is just enough to get her to Oregon.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha